


The Tadfield Heat and Wellness Clinic

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), F/M, First Time, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nanny Ashtoreth Has a Penis (Good Omens), Playmating, Religious Cults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: Nanny Ashtoreth really had been nanny to nearly all of the staff and patrons at the Tadfield omega clinic. Tadfield's newest resident, Aziraphale, is having a hard time adjusting and may very well need some nannying.
Relationships: Nanny Ashtoreth/Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 53





	The Tadfield Heat and Wellness Clinic

**Author's Note:**

> This was in the Nanny's Tales zine! If you get a kick out of this, there's a sequel that'll be in [the second volume that is now on sale](https://twitter.com/nannyzine)!!

Nanny Ashtoreth really _had_ been nanny to most of the staff and patrons of the Tadfield Heat and Wellness Center. Thirty years overseeing the mixed daycare and acting as the top alpha tutor in the region had made her the obvious choice when the clinic needed new management. She had the rapport, respect, and experience necessary to manage various playmating groups, the heat clinic, omega health services, and matchmaking events—despite being mateless and childless herself. In a way, this lack made her a surrogate parent to the entirety of the village. It was likely because of this that she hadn’t actually had anyone refer to her by her first name in years. For everyone, she was Nanny. 

“Nanny Ashtoreth,” Newton Pulsifer peeped, knocking on the door. Even though he was past 30, Newton was still incredibly shy around her, fearing he’d make a mistake and probably making double due to his nerves. Nanny didn’t mind this, because he was competent enough overseeing the beginner playmating groups and, as she never intruded during those, rarely cocked that up. 

“Newton, come in,” she said, putting down her pen to focus on him. He hopped inside and shut the door. “What is it I can assist you with?” 

“It’s about the newcomer,” he said, and he winced. “Mr. Aziraphale, I mean.” 

Aziraphale was currently the oldest omega in any of their playmating groups, but certainly not the oldest they’d ever had. He’d moved from London about a month ago, with a mandatory 25 hours of group or private playmating to complete before his next heat cycle, with a consequence of mandatory hospitalization during said heat if he failed to meet this requirement. He had not been especially forthcoming with the reasons why during his initial (and only) meeting with Nanny. She had introduced him to the health services he was entitled to and he, perfectly lovely, smiled politely and nodded. He had expressed that his last heat had not gone well. He’d had to be sedated after being a “tad bit rough” with himself.

“There’s a slight problem,” Newton said and then shook his head. “It’s not slight.” 

“All right,” she nodded, folding her hands and crossing her legs. She gestured for Newton to sit, which he did. 

“So, he’s been coming in twice weekly and he, er…. well, no one wants to practice with him.” 

Nanny felt a deep, confused jolt of disappointment in her village. “Because of his age?” Nanny, before her meeting with Aziraphale, had wondered if it might be an issue. She’d quickly dispelled that concern after seeing the way he moved, his charming little mannerisms, his soft hands and kind face. He was so exceedingly pretty and sweet, she hadn’t thought he’d face any trouble. 

“No,” Newton said very slowly. “Everyone was very welcoming. But he’s been—apprehensive.” 

She felt herself staring at him, and he must have felt it despite her dark shades because he squirmed in his seat. She chose her words carefully. “Newton. One of the points of a playmating group is to provide strategies to deal with apprehension. I know you know this, as you are good at your job, so there must be another reason you’re bringing this to my attention.” 

“He bites people,” Newton blurted out. “And scratches them. He nearly took a chunk out of Curtis Bailey’s arm and we had to end the group session early. No one will practice with him; they’re too scared. And it’s upset him so much that he won’t even try with me or the other coaches now” 

“I see.” Nanny did not really see, because she hadn’t thought an omega so naturally demure would reject mating, let alone just play. “And have you tried him with other omegas?” 

“That’s what I’m saying, Nanny!” Newton’s voice was pitching upwards. “He attacks everyone. People don’t even want to practice _around_ him.” 

Nanny stood and turned on her electric kettle for some tea. “And have you talked with Mr. Aziraphale about this?”

“Yes.” Newton took a breath and calmed himself. “He’s always very contrite, and he says he doesn’t mean to do it. I think he cried even more than Curtis Bailey did, after the incident.” 

“Hm.” 

“I asked him if he’s considered a private coach, but he doesn’t have the money for something like that. And,” Newton fidgeted, hesitating. Nanny made up two teas: peppermint for Newton and loose leaf chai for herself, placing his mug in front of him. “I’m worried about him. Because he’s so awfully nice, and I think he could probably still mate, even at his age. And it would probably be good for him because he seems lonely.” 

Nanny chose to ignore most of that. “I’m afraid we don’t have the funds for financing him a private coach, but I can make some calls.” 

“Would you do it?” Newton asked. “Coach him?” 

There was a pinch, low in her stomach, and she looked at him, caught completely off guard. 

“I know you’ve done it before,” he said. 

“Yes,” she admitted, “Although I only did it for a few years, and that was ages ago.” She had just started nannying, and the clinic had been brand new. 

“Yes, but you’re intimidating—no, I mean,” Newton flushed, horrified at himself. “I mean, people respect you. And trust you. And Mr. Aziraphale thinks highly of you; he always calls you ‘the absolutely charming woman from the head office.’”

For her own sanity, Nanny doubly ignored that. “And have you told him about this plan of yours?” 

Newton, assuming that meant yes, brightened. “Of course! He’s actually right outside in the waiting room, if you want to talk to him.” 

Quietly, as Nanny took out her tea infuser and set it aside, she asked: “He’s been waiting this whole time and you’re only telling me now?” 

“Err.” Newton gulped. “Yeah.” 

Nanny stood up directly and opened her office door. Sure enough, the omega was seated across from the receptionist, making idle conversation about the John Grisham paperback she was reading, his manicured hands neatly folded in his lap, his face sunny and bright. Of course, the expression froze when he saw Nanny, nerves clearly taking over as he sat up even straighter. His hands tightened around each other, turning white. 

“Mr. Aziraphale,” she said, her professional smile in place, radiating a distanced sort of acceptance. “It’s good to see you again.” 

He stood, shorter than her even without her heels on, and gently took her hand. His hand was completely uncalloused: soft, unworked, and plump. “Lovely to see you again, ma’am.” 

“Please, Ms. Ashtoreth, if you don’t mind.” She kept her smile close-lipped, although there was something about him that made her gums itch like she was 15 again. Another reason to get him an actual playmating coach, or even a heat therapist. Anyone with a certificate. 

“Ms. Ashtoreth,” he agreed. He let go of her hand. He swallowed, eyes darting away for a moment. “I’m sorry that our next meeting had to be under these circumstances.” 

“Not at all. Why don’t you come in?” She held the door for him, and he passed her, smelling of sunshine and clean linen, fresh and warm. “Newton and I were just having tea. Can I get you one?” 

“That sounds lovely,” he said, sitting in the chair next to Newton. He perched on the edge, seeming ready to pop up and dash away at any time. “What are you having?” he asked, looking at her mug. “It smells wonderful.” 

“It’s a spiced chai.” 

Aziraphale folded his hands and tucked one ankle primly behind the other. “I’ll have that, thank you.” 

Newton choked on his own tea. “The chai’s imported,” he rushed, in quiet warning to Aziraphale. “She doesn’t — ”

“Nonsense,” Nanny said, shaking out the used infuser into the bin and making up a second cup. When she handed Aziraphale the mug, he cradled it in his hands, breathing it in and sighing. His shoulders relaxed, and a pink flush returned to his face and hands. If Nanny were so rude as to scent the air at that moment, she knew he would smell content. 

It was only after he’d taken his first sip that she started to speak. “Newton’s been explaining your situation to me.” 

“Ah.” He set the mug down on the coaster on her desk, a little hard. “Yes, of course.” 

“I will personally do what I can to reach out to our UK headquarters to see if we can allocate some funds to getting you a personal coach.” 

“Oh, but,” Aziraphale glanced between her and Newton. “Did Mr. Pulsifer not explain that I requested you?” 

Nanny stilled. “No, not as such.” 

“Nanny, I just — I thought it would be best if — ”

“That’s all right, Newton,” she said, trying her best not to appear off-balance. “But, Mr. Aziraphale, I have to ask why you would make such a request.” 

“Because I like the way you smell,” he said plainly. When Newton gaped at him, Aziraphale pulled into himself. “Is that wrong to say?” Newton stammered. 

“Under the circumstances, no,” Nanny cut in, leaving Newton to slump in relief. “Has that been the issue? The scents of people in the group?” 

“I suppose,” Aziraphale fiddled with his pinkie ring and then abruptly stopped, instead clasping his hands tightly. “It smells so strongly in there. I believe I get a little overwhelmed.” 

_A little overwhelmed_ , Nanny noted, was a funny way of putting it. “You have to understand this is a little unusual,” she said. 

“I of course don’t want to pressure you,” he said, weakly. “And I would be very relieved to meet with a private coach, I’m sure. But, you see, I’m living at St. Augustine’s, and I help out around there, but it’s not like they can give me much money, and I would hate to put your center out at all. So, I will simply make more of an effort at group!” he resolved. 

Newton jolted, panicked, so Nanny put a hand up. “Let’s not make any decisions. I’ll make a few calls and see if we can get you a private coach. In fact, I might know someone who will do it as a favor to me.” 

“Oh, no, really, I couldn’t—”

“Please,” Nanny said. “Being forced to complete playmating is difficult enough; we’ll do our best to see you’re comfortable. But I’ll need to ask some questions so I can put in a request for you. Some I can get from your entry paperwork, but there’s a few additional things to do. You’re staying at the church?” she asked, reaching to her filing cabinet for a blank heat coach request form. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale smiled. “It’s funny. I’ve never seen you there,” he said shyly.

“I don’t attend,” she stated.

“Oh, are you not—” he swallowed, flushing. “You’re Anglican, then?” 

“I’m not Christian,” she said, grinning at the impropriety in a way she never would with someone else.

“Oh, um… Jewish, then?” he guessed. 

“Nonreligious,” she said, because that was mostly true. Newton was sweating up a storm, nearly sick with discomfort at someone being so crass with Nanny. Even as a beta, the pheromones he was throwing off made her nose itch. Aziraphale was tugging at his collar. “Would you like Mr. Pulsifer to stay during this process? Or we could reschedule.” 

“No, that’s fine,” Aziraphale said, grateful to be rid of Newton’s anxious energy, seeming to have enough of his own. 

“Thank you, Newton,” she said. He stood quickly and scrambled out, leaving his tea mug half empty and right beside the coaster. Nanny would scold him later, standing to place it in the to-be-washed bin. 

“At St. Augustine’s, do you have your own room? You’ll need somewhere to meet with the therapist.” She sat back down, focusing her attention back on the form. 

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that at a church,” he said, scandalized.

“Why not?” Nanny stilled, looking at him, her confusion (and sadness—she realized she felt sad too) weighing her down. “Didn’t God make you an omega? Surely he knows what it entails.” And when Aziraphale didn’t have a response to that, she added: “Besides, you live in the rectory, don’t you? That’s not quite the same.” 

“I couldn’t at a church,” Aziraphale repeated, not meeting her eye. 

Nanny relented, her stomach tight at his discomfort. “That’s not a problem. We have some very nice private rooms here. I’ll make sure to schedule you one in advance. Regardless of where you choose, a representative of the clinic must be present for safety. You can request who you might prefer—”

“You.”

“—but a beta is most effective,” Nanny tried to explain. 

“No, I’d prefer you. If I really do get to request.” He watched her carefully, wanting to see if she’d renege his right. 

“I’ll put that down. When was your last heat?” 

“March.” 

“And are they usually then?” It was September now, so that would allow them to not rush the next 15 or so hours he had left. 

Aziraphale hesitated. He started to fidget again as Nanny watched him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve only had the one.” 

“What?” Nanny lost her composure, her mouth twisting. “How is that possible?” 

“Suppressants,” he squeaked, embarrassed. “Mostly that.” 

And certainly there were cases in which parents would keep their children on suppressants after presenting, and Nanny wasn’t naive enough to imagine that schools and omega wellness clinics were enough to catch all of that. But to stay on them into one’s 50s was unheard of. After a certain point, one missed dose was enough to trigger a heat, if the suppressants didn’t stop working altogether. 

“If I tell you something, can it remain confidential? I suppose you can tell the playmating coach, but no one else? My situation is sort of delicate,” he explained. He tugged at the sleeve of his coat jacket, and then on the collar of his shirt. 

“Of course,” Nanny said. 

Aziraphale nodded, thinking for a moment and then clearing his throat. “Did you hear about the Heaven on Earth Church? They were in the news earlier this year, a little.” 

They had been all over the news actually, so of course Nanny had heard of the cult, a rundown rural commune in Southern England. The leader, and his father before him, had claimed that the people in his congregation were crusaders, stockpiling arms for Armageddon. There was a particular detail that overshadowed the immense number of weapons amassed which every news source spent time on: the seven kept angels, ranging from child to middle age, supposedly sent by God to protect the crusaders. Nanny had seen the headlines, heard about it on the BBC, and then mostly forgotten about the whole thing after it had its time in the news cycle. 

“My mother joined when she was pregnant with me. So, I grew up there,” he said, lightly. “And angels are sexless, so. I didn’t even know I was an omega.”

“I had no idea,” Nanny said.

“No one does, except Father Thomas, and I’d rather not have it out quite yet. It’s why I left London; it seemed everyone around me knew.”

“I understand.” Nanny’s pen wavered above the line Are your heats consistent? Yes / No

“You can imagine how startled I was when I started my first heat while in police custody,” he laughed. “I thought the Devil had finally come for me.” He chuckled, but it was very hollow. “Yes,” he trailed off. “I thought I might die.” 

“And none of the other members said anything about dynamics, ever?” 

“I wasn’t much allowed to talk to them,” he said, keeping his tone practiced and mild. “And all of the angels were born into the church, so none of us knew.” 

Nanny allowed herself a moment to be silent and think. “Thank you for trusting me with this, Aziraphale. I’ll only tell the coach as much as they need to know.” 

Aziraphale didn’t relax, but he did drop his shoulders slightly and went back to enjoying his tea. “You can’t know how much I appreciate that. And how sorry I am for all the trouble I’ve caused. Mr. Pulsifer and everyone keeps telling me it’s not my fault, but I know none of the other omegas act like this. I’d say when I get a job, I’ll pay you back, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.” 

“Not to worry. This is why the center exists.” Nanny felt put through the wringer over this, but she managed to smile and keep herself from doing anything uncouth, like coming around the desk and taking him in her arms.

* * *

A week and more than a few phone calls later, and Nanny had arranged for a heat coach to come for a trial session with Aziraphale. Madam Tracy was mature and good-natured, and Nanny had always found her pleasant enough to work with. She was exceedingly soft-spoken and bright, which would suit Aziraphale perfectly. 

“Poor thing,” Madam Tracy cooed after Nanny had told her Aziraphale’s approximate heat history (and nothing else). “To have your instincts scrambled for so long. It can do a funny number on you.” She shook her head. “And where is the lamb now?” 

“He’s changing,” Nanny said, feeling worse and worse, despite how very good a match Tracy and Aziraphale were for each other. “I’ll get him.” She stepped out.

Aziraphale was changed into the soft sweatpants and shirt that was typical for playmating. He looked very uncomfortable without his jacket and trousers, tugging at the edge of the overlong shirt, smoothing it over the soft curve of his belly and then, seeming to be displeased, puffing the shirt back out. Nanny rapped on the open door, accidentally startling him. 

“Madam Tracy is here,” she said, trying to ignore how plush and heated he looked, standing barefoot and timid in front of the mirror. “Are you ready?” 

“I suppose I must be.” He forced a smile. Starting to leave the room, he jolted to a stop and asked a quick: “You’ll be there the whole time?” 

“Yes,” Nanny said, and then, inexplicably, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Aziraphale snorted and shot her a look. Nanny was in awe of him. If she wasn’t a resolute professional, she’d have taken him to dinner. If she was just slightly weaker, she’d have _him_ for dinner. “It’s not me I’m worried about.” 

“Hello, dearie,” Madam Tracy said as they entered. “Aziraphale,” she said, his name sounding cute and sweet in her mouth. 

“Madam Tracy,” he said with a tentative smile, after glancing at Nanny.

“Now, you’ll be just fine,” Tracy promised. “Nanny will stay just outside and you can call for her at any point. We’ll go very slow, and I’ll tell you before I do anything.” 

“Ms. Ashtoreth isn’t staying in the room?” 

Tracy looked between them, confused. “Generally, the representative stays in the observation room. She’ll be able to see us the whole time, but there won’t be any pheromone interference.” 

Aziraphale held himself tight and tense at Nanny’s side, and she almost called the whole thing off. But Aziraphale finally rolled his shoulders back. “Yes, that makes sense.” 

“I can stay, if you’d prefer,” Nanny offered.

“No, I’d like to do it correctly,” he said, glancing at the bed and then the couch and then the plush carpet. Nanny had insured he’d have their best room, but now that he was actually in it, it looked so shabby. If Nanny had accepted, they could have done it in her own, tidy home—but that was an inappropriate line of thought which she shut down quickly. 

Nanny took her leave, slipping out and into the second room, hidden by the one-way mirror. She sat, straightened her skirt, and crossed her legs. For comfort, she removed her hat and, after a moment’s deliberation, her sunglasses. When she looked through the window, Madam Tracy and Aziraphale were on the couch. Tracy had her hand on one of Aziraphale’s soft, wide thighs, not too high but not very close to the knee either. She was saying something quietly to him, but it had made him laugh. Nanny certainly heard _that_ , and she relaxed some, reassured of Tracy’s ability. 

Aziraphale tilted his head to the side, his eyes darting to the mirror and closing when Tracy scented his neck, her nose brushing along his pulse. The blush on his cheeks was faint and more leftover from earlier than an actual immediate response. Still, it sat high and pretty on his full cheeks, looking perfect to touch, to cradle and cup and kiss. Tracy did none of that, although she might have if Aziraphale had expressed a desire. And, looking the way he did from just being scented…

“How about we try you on your back, dearie?” Madam Tracy asked. Aziaphale looked at her—and what was his expression? Was he nervous, or excited? Did his heaven’s blue eyes darken and dilate? Was his mouth wet?—and he nodded. “One foot on the floor, like that. Let’s push this thigh up.” 

It was a standard position for the skittish and inexperienced omega, allowing them to see everything that was happening and feel grounded. Aziraphale went into it easily enough, his blush deeper now, his hands trembling and fluttering, unsure where to go. She hitched his leg up and slotted against him. Being pressed into like that, Aziraphale exhaled, the sound soft enough that Nanny really shouldn’t have heard it. 

“Do you like being kissed, love?” Madam Tracy kept one hand on Aziraphale’s hip, the other tickling the side of his neck. He nodded, and she leaned in, hooking one of his knees around her waist. The kiss was mostly chaste, but Aziraphale responded well, moaning into it.

Nanny felt that increasingly familiar nagging sensation in her stomach watching Aziraphale kiss and be kissed, softly melting against the couch and cushions as he unclutched his hands and placed them carefully on Madam Tracy’s shoulders. Really, Nanny should have insisted on Newton or one of the other clinic trainers taking over the observation, because there hadn’t been anything to worry about with Tracy. 

Glancing away for one moment, Nanny crossed and recrossed her legs, shifting in her seat and then abruptly looking back up when she heard snarling. 

Aziraphale had bucked Madam Tracy off, knocking her to the ground. He looked furious, baring his teeth, pressed flat against the back of the coach. But the moment Nanny stepped back in, the very sound of her high heel leaving the wood of the observation room to the carpet had Aziraphale glancing over his shoulder, blinking owlishly. Madam Tracy got to her feet, brushed herself off, and rubbed at her elbow, which she had fallen on but not injured. Aziraphale whipped around to look at her. 

“Oh, Madam Tracy,” he warbled, “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right,” she said as she took a safely distant seat on the bed. She didn’t even look rattled, smiling easily at him. 

“What happened?” Nanny asked. With nowhere else to sit except beside Aziraphale on the coach, she remained standing. 

“I…” he choked. “I attacked her. I’m so sorry.” 

“Aziraphale, lovey, I’m fine,” Madam Tracy promised.

“Did she do something that startled you? Or that hurt?” Nanny’s eyes caught on his soft chest, the white shirt thin enough for a hint of pink, peaked nipple to be visible. The room was muggy with his scent. 

“No.” Aziraphale shook his head, looking less like a gesture and more like he was trying to shake something loose. “No, I just — I tried to scent her, like I’m _supposed_ to, and it was wrong. I got—scared. Oh, Madam Tracy, I apologize. You came all this way!” 

“It’s her job,” Nanny said, very softly. “This doesn’t have to be a setback.” 

“Of course, love. I know you’ll find a coach who works for you.” 

Aziraphale hunched into himself. “I have to keep trying,” he realized, devastated. 

Nanny’s mouth tightened. Her fists clenched. “Maybe, Madam Tracy,” she started, “You might be willing to try again.” 

Sympathetic but firm, Tracy frowned. “He doesn’t like my scent. There’s nothing to do about that. You’ve got a sensitive nose, don’t you?” 

“I don’t know how to process so much,” he said, to Nanny this time. “I’m so sorry this is so difficult. If I need to,” he started, and his voice broke off with his nerves. “I can go back to London. There are _services_ up there. I truly don’t mean — I’m so sorry — I — I — ”

Nanny, instinctively, put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a tender, little squeeze. Aziraphale shifted closer, and Nanny thought she might rub his back, comfort him, like she would with a sad pup.

“Hm,” Madam Tracy said, her eyes fixed on Nanny, miles away from the soft gaze she used with clients. Caught looking, she raised her eyebrows at Nanny and then glanced back at Aziraphale meaningfully. Nanny’s mouth twitched a slight frown, and Tracy rolled her eyes, standing to collect her things. 

When Nanny checked to make sure he hadn’t seen any of that, because there was no way she could explain what Tracy was trying to imply, she found he was looking at her, only her and where she was touching him. She reluctantly let go. 

“There’s really nothing else for me to do here,” Tracy finally said, shoes back on and purse in hand, “And I promised I’d say hello to a few people. Nanny, always a pleasure. Aziraphale, wonderful to meet you.” And she walked out, Aziraphale’s shoulders slumping. 

“Come on,” Nanny said to Aziraphale. “Let’s not make any rash decisions yet. Is there someone I can call for you while you get changed?” 

“Father Thomas isn’t available until after 4. It’s no problem, I can walk.” He stood and then wavered. “Oh, I feel faint.” 

“Sit, please.” Nanny settled him back down. “One of the trainers or I can drive you home.” 

“You,” Aziraphale demanded quickly. He softened his voice and tried again. “Will you drive me home?” 

“I’ll drive you,” she said, trying not to think too much. “How about I get you a tea first?” 

“Just some water,” he said. “My head…” 

“Of course, pet,” she said, although her instinct was to check his forehead and have him lay down. He probably just needed to be in his own territory and get some rest. “And I’ll bring your clothes in. You can change here. No need to fuss.” 

As she stood, he caught her wrist. Taking him in, he did look a little worse for the wear, rumpled and watery-eyed. “Why does everyone call you Nanny?” 

“That’s who I am,” she said. 

Aziraphale nodded and let go, resting his head back.

It wasn’t until he was in her car that she realized something was truly wrong. It had to be the result of her absolutely unprofessional interest in him; she usually wasn’t so knot-headed. 

“Aziraphale,” she said, very calmly to keep him from panicking. “I think you’re heating.” 

“What?” he startled, bleary eyes turning sharp. “But I’m not due for months.” 

“It’s likely a pseudo heat. Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Of course I do! They wouldn’t have let me out of the hospital and state custody if I hadn’t learned these things!” he bit out. 

“All right,” Nanny said, kicking herself for feeling _charmed_ by his growling. “Normally, I would recommend going home and taking care of it yourself or with a heat partner. But I’m going to strongly encourage that you let me take you to hospital, considering how difficult your first heat was.” 

“Not the hospital,” he paled, voice rising quickly. “No, I couldn’t do that again. I promise, I’ve learned things in the playmating class — even if I can’t settle for an alpha! Please don’t take me to hospital!” 

“I won’t,” Nanny said. The smell of him, wet and needy, surrounded by her own scent, was starting to make her nerves tighten though, which meant she needed to get him sorted fast. “Do you have toys you can use?” 

“Toys?” he squeaked. 

“For heats?” 

“No!” he gasped. “Nanny, I live at a _church_!” 

“Yes, with Father Thomas, an omega, who I know for a fact satisfies his own heats with an inflatable knot and bottled alpha scent.” Nanny took a breath. That wasn’t the point. “Is there someone I can take you to? A friend who can look after you.” 

Aziraphale finally burst into tears. “There’s no one! I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I have no one.” 

Nanny’s heart was racing. “What if I stayed with you in the hospital—”

“No!”

“Aziraphale, _please_ ,” she tried to reason, and she could hear how ragged her own voice was getting. All she wanted was to get Aziraphale somewhere safe and then go home for a wank and a nap. (All she _wanted_ was to take him home and have him join her.) 

“Can’t I stay with you?” he pleaded. “Please! I promise I won’t bite you. I’ll try so hard. Please, let me stay with you. I know I’m nothing, but please, you’re the only one, and I can’t—” and his voice hiccuped off. He buried his face in his hands. He took a breath. Nanny was still trying to think of what she could possibly say when he straightened back up. “I’m sorry.” He folded his hands in his lap, slumped his shoulders, and looked out the window. “I apologize. I think I have to go to—” his voice cracked, “—to hospital. I apologize for the scene, and to _assume_ — oh, I mean, I apologize. I’ll go to hospital.” 

Nanny didn’t start the car quite yet. “Aziraphale, I don’t want to take you to the hospital.” 

He looked at her, eyes wide and clearly fighting with himself. He thought and then asked: “For my sake?” 

“Not entirely.” 

“Then _don’t_ ,” he said, turning to her, reaching out and then hesitating. That wouldn’t do, so she took his hand and held it tightly. 

Decision made, she started the car. 

* * *

Her home wasn’t the largest in Tadfield, but it was the most impressive, with the nicest yard and most thoughtful style. While most Alphas relied on their omegas to bring such touches to a house, Nanny had always very much known what she liked and had little patience for anything else.

Aziraphale, of course, did not have much interest in the decor at the moment, and Nanny wouldn’t have had the patience to discuss it. In fact, when she herded him inside and he stopped in the middle of the living room to look around, mouth open, crying out: “You have so many books!” Nanny laughed. How could books be at all important right then, with Aziraphale sweating through his clothes, squirming and smelling of excess slick?

“Should we stay on the couch, or can we — I mean, wherever you’re more comfortable?” he asked, casting a glance over his shoulder. Nanny wondered if he had any idea how he looked, eyes lidded and dark, mouth wet pink, blush ruddy and creeping down his unmarked neck, under his stuffy collar. 

“I think the bed would be best,” Nanny hummed, taking Aziraphale by the elbow and guiding him.

“Oh,” he stammered. “Oh, I — ”

“Shh,” she said. In her room, she undid his sloppy bowtie, carefully folded his jacket, and helped him out of his shoes. When his hands trembled and he couldn’t quite manage the buttons on his shirt, she helped him with that too.

“Can — can I leave this on?” he asked, holding the hem of his thin undershirt.

“Yes, of course, pet.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “I can stay dressed. We can just get into bed for a cuddle, if that’s what you want.” 

“Would that be enough?” he asked, going for her coat regardless, fumbling with its buttons. 

“That’s up to you,” she said, easing herself out of whatever he wanted. 

“No,” he decided. “That won’t be enough.” He averted his eyes when he realized how thin her bra was, how dark her hard nipples looked through the sheer fabric. When she stepped out of her skirt though, he couldn’t look away from the large bulge of her half-hard prick. 

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “I — I’ve never seen one.” 

“In person?” She tried not to sound smug. 

“At all. There were some diagrams in a textbook, but not — not real. Oh, Lord. I’m sorry. I never swear like this,” he promised. He looked woozy.

“It’s not a problem. I can put on something else if it bothers you.” 

“Oh, no,” he said quickly. “I like it. Only is it… really supposed to go inside of me?” 

Nanny laughed; she couldn’t help it. “Not today,” she assured him. 

Aziraphale was clearly still thinking about it as he removed his trousers, oblivious to the wet spot on the front of his own plain, white drawers. Distracted as he was, Nanny could look directly at it without feeling too horribly impolite. 

“With a heat like this,” he started.

“A pseudo heat.” 

“Yes, a pseudo heat. Is there a particular position? That’s best, or?” 

“Is there one you like?” she asked, sitting on the bed as he crawled on as well. He was shaking a little, inelegant in his excitement, but he didn’t seem distressed.

He thought it over, sitting on his heels. “On my back?” So Nanny laid him back against the pillows and placed his feet flat on the covers. 

“Are you all right?”

“It’s just—cooling,” he said, pulling a face, likely referring to the slick pooling in his briefs. 

“I might have a pair of knickers, if you’d like to change.” Although with how wide and cushioned his hips were, she really doubted she had anything that would be a comfortable fit. He seemed aware of that as well, almost ashamed as he shook his head. “You could take them off. I promise I won’t look, if you don’t want.” She pet her hand up his calf, under his knee, along his thigh, all lightly blondly furred. His legs parted for her, as if he didn’t even notice. 

“It wouldn’t be too forward?” 

“I don’t think so.” She smiled. She could feel the heat of him — not just his warmth, but his desperation. She wanted so terribly to bury her face in his neck, to rut her hips forward and hump him into the mattress. She settled for putting her hands on his hips, just under the waistband of his drawers, squeezing down on his extra fluff. She could feel his hipbone with her thumb if she pressed down, spanning her large hands around him.

“You’ll take yours off too?” he asked. Nanny, not having realized how much her gaze had strayed from his face, snapped her head up.

“Is that what you want?” 

Looking between them, biting his lip, he nodded. And once the two of them were matched nude from the waist down, he pressed himself up, sweetly and awkwardly, looking for a taste of friction. 

Instinctively, Nanny’s grip got firmer and she forced him back into the bed, the very act of which had Aziraphale moaning, absolutely lost by simply being held in his place. Certainly not cruel, Nanny crowded him immediately after, slotting their hips together and rubbing her stiff, heavy cock against where he was all wet and giving. She felt his nose press into her neck, her hair where it was coming out of its pins, and sighing, whiny and pleased, against her. 

He curled his arms around her shoulders, clinging to her as he rolled his hips, her hard breasts against his soft ones, his diminutive, practically decorative omega cock rubbing alongside hers. And his hole, his leaky slitted center, felt like it was dripping against her, covering her prick and balls and pubic hair with his slick.

She hooked her hands under his knees and nearly folded him in half, surrounding him as she fucked against him, along him, right over his chubby vulva and cocklet. Aziraphale’s hands came up to cover his mouth because he couldn’t seem to stop crying out. As that complicated her access to his neck, she wrapped his legs around her waist and pressed his wrists to the bed, mouthing at his shoulder, licking and nipping at his neck. 

“Nanny,” he whimpered. “Nanny, kiss me. Will you kiss me?” She did more than just kiss him. She trailed up his chin, savored the blush on his cheeks, and then finally let their lips meet. He opened, so soft, so easily led, and she made love to his mouth, fucking her tongue in the way she couldn’t with her cock. His tongue flicked against hers, and he sang into her mouth as Nanny worked a hand between them to touch his swollen, sweetly-hooded cock. 

“Inside me,” he panted, once she returned to scenting his neck. She shook her head, and he wailed. “Please, go inside me.” 

“Don’t you like what I’m giving you?” she said, moving from his cocklet to rub over his labia, spreading him so she could push up against his tender, vulnerable spots—but not inside, never inside, because that would be a step too far. 

Aziraphale huffed. “But I want it.” 

Nanny pulled up, charmed and breathless. She laughed, and Aziraphale bristled at the noise, clenching his thighs around her sides to keep her from going too far away. “I know you do. Let’s try this instead. Flip over.” Aziraphale did it quickly, his shirt riding up, giving a glimpse of his generous side, its whisper-silver stretch marks and pale pink flesh. His bum pressed up, an absolute marvel, his blushing pussy below a tiny, tight anus. She wanted to kiss him all over, work her tongue into every hole he had until he screamed. 

Today wasn’t the day for that, though, so she mounted him instead, her chest flat against his back, trapping him against the bed. Her skinny thighs around his fat ones, her cock slid against his cunt with each pump forward. She reached down to fiddle with his cock again, her other arm bracing around him, his cheek pressed against her forearm. “Is that good, little darling?” she cooed against his wispy white curls. He moaned, low and undone, his lips moving against her arm but forming no words. “Yes, that’s just the ticket,” she breathed. 

“Please,” he whined. 

“Uh-uh, pet,” she stroked him, harder, faster, knowing he’d crest soon.

“Just a little bit, put just a little inside.” 

Her hips stuttered, and he latched onto that, chanting: “Just the tip, just a little, just the tip, I just need a little.” 

“You’re not ready to be knotted,” she told him.

“Noooo,” he begged. “Don’t knot me; just put some inside.” 

“Just the tip?” she repeated, not sure she could make the appropriate choice in this situation. 

“Ohhhh,” he lowed, “Yes, please, Nanny, please, Nanny.” 

“Oh, damnation,” she swore under her breath. She stopped jacking him off and squeezed her own cock, feeling on the edge of coming herself. She lined up, spreading him apart with her prickhead. The positively whorish sound he made had Nanny inhaling sharply because, oh, he was perfect, and, oh, Nanny shouldn’t be doing this. She should have asked him out the moment she’d seen him so there’d be no confusion. She didn’t just want to playmate or heat assist for him.

He grew still as she started to work herself in. His breath fluttered and, with the head in, he mewled frantically, slotting his teeth over her forearm and biting down, making her grunt and fuck her hips forward in a jerk. He whined and squirmed and shook apart beneath her. His tight, little quim pulsed, sucking her inside. 

Nanny had to grip the base of her prick, which was already starting to knot, feeling the heat of a cunt and no less a subject to instinct than any other part of her body. One hand choking her knot, the other arm between Aziraphale’s blunt, sweet teeth, she felt the best sort of overwhelmed and spilled herself inside of him. 

He unlocked his jaw and scrambled up. “My mouth,” he panted. “Put it in my mouth.” Nanny slipped out, still spurting seed, and Aziraphale clambered around, urging Nanny up on her knees so he could nearly faceplant against her cock, his dainty hands trying to close around her growing knot as he put the tip of her into his pouty, red mouth. He groaned at the taste, his eyes closing as she shot against his tongue, scarcely able to breathe against the sight, the spectacle. 

“Is this how big your knot is?” he asked, popping off her prick for a second, semen smearing against his cheek instead.

 _My little slut_ , she almost called him. _My perfect cocksucker_. Instead she nodded. “It’s usually like this.” 

“And it’s supposed to fit inside me,” he hushed, amazed. It wasn’t a question for her, and he sank back down, laving at the slit of her cock, moaning like it was the sweetest cream, and then sucking the tip again. 

He tried for a bit more too fast and ended up gagging. Hissing, she got a hand in his hair and held him where he was. “Easy,” she said, she praised, she pleaded. She looked at the indents his teeth had left on her arm, and her hips jolted forward on their own accord, making him gag once more. Nanny didn’t apologize, because he seemed to like it, bleary-eyed and moaning around her. He was perfect, she realized again. 

The knot, not held snug in Aziraphale’s body, deflated quickly, leaving his face and shirt streaked with spunk. She left the bed to get a wet flannel for his face, and he let her clean him, wiping over his cheek and nose and chin. The corners of his mouth she simply kissed clean. 

Hesitating—and wasn’t that delightful, after what they’d done?—he peeled off his shirt and got quickly under the covers. He held up the edge of the sheets though, waiting for Nanny to join. She curled around him, reveling in the way their scents mingled on her pillowcase. 

“Will it flare up again?” he asked after they’d taken a moment to catch their breath. 

“It might,” she said. “Are you all right?” 

He wiggled around to face her. “Yes, but I bit you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, and, oh, but I promised I wouldn’t! Are you hurt?” 

“No,” she said, smiling, reaching up to play with his curls because she could. “I’ve had angry pups bite me. This was quite mild in comparison.” She brushed a finger down his ear, down his throat. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Oh, no!” he said, shocked she would ask. “It was wonderful. I had no idea it would feel like that.” 

“You just needed a good pseudo heat to get yourself worked out,” she offered lightly. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “It was you. I told you; I like the way you smell. It makes me feel safe.” His hand was between them on the pillow, so she clutched it. Under the covers, one of his knees touched hers. “You don’t mind if I stay here a moment? I worry I’m about to fall asleep.” 

“Of course, pet,” and she lifted his hand to press a kiss against it, quite unthinkingly. He shuffled against her, worked in between her arms, and then scrunched his nose at the feel of her sheer brassiere against his naked chest. She removed it and tossed it off the bed (although she made a note of where it landed so she could fold and stow it once Aziraphale drifted off).

“Have you really read all those books?” he asked, eyes falling shut.

She breathed out a laugh, tickled at the idea. “No,” she admitted. “Not yet. You can borrow some though.” 

“You’re too kind,” he murmured. “Don’t you want to know,” he started, trying to force his eyes open. “If Aziraphale is my first or last name? I know people wonder. I’ve been asked a few times.” 

“All right,” she indulged. She’d seen his admittance papers to the clinic and already knew, but he seemed to want to say. “Which is it?” 

“Hm. Angels don’t have surnames. It’s my only one. But to get an ID they made me choose one, because I didn’t know what my mother’s was.” 

“What did you choose?” Nanny asked, still stroking a hand down his warm back. She could get used to him being in her bed and, while curious, she felt no real rush to learn everything about him at once. She’d make sure they had all the time they needed.

“Greyson. Grace-son. As in the son of Grace. Because I was delivered. You must think that’s very silly.” 

“You don’t know what I think,” she said gently, and Aziraphale, eyes closing again, smiled. “I think Greyson suits you just fine.” If she thought Aziraphale Ashtoreth had a better ring, she figured it was best to keep that to herself for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Even if you didn't like this, check out [Nanny's Valentine's Day Special](https://twitter.com/nannyzine) because there's gonna be a lot of really great stuff in there! and thank you for reading this!
> 
> ([Follow me on my professional fanfiction twitter](https://twitter.com/gigglesnortPro) or [just come kick it with me on my tumbly](https://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com))


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